Sunday Musings – December 15, 2019
Perhaps it is impossible to understand the briefness of this life journey until one has passed the markers which tell one that it is only a moment between birthdays or a mere second from the passion of the conception of one’s child or children to their adult years. Perhaps it is only a Nano-second that one has to attend to and savor an evening or even a week with friends. Perhaps one cannot fully appreciate that all those chores can wait if only one can absorb one more moment with a loved one or the visit of a winter bird.
It does seem to me that in some cultures and in some places – perhaps the two are always intricately woven together in a fine, silk tapestry – time wraps itself around the moment and stretches it to infinity. This seemed to be true in Alaska when the Tlingit community allowed me to share the breath of all that was and all that was to be.
Last evening, I spent time with close friends in Pittsburgh or more precisely at the home of friends in Penn Hills, Pennsylvania. Some of us in that group of eight have been gathering for, we think, 37 years. Others joined us later. Several can only join us by whispering words of comfort wrapped in a blanket of remembered laughter. At that first gathering I would have been what I then thought was a moderately grown up man. Already I was thinking that my life was just starting in some ways. I was full of hope. I was also undoubtedly full of myself while thinking I had learned something of what it meant to be a man or at least was in the process.
The essence of this group 37 years ago was a group of men who were committed to unlearning what it meant to be a man and learning what it might mean to be a person who happened to be male and who might learn to behave in a way which allowed for the possibility of equal relationships with the women in all aspects of our lives. We may have thought we had learned the core of that dance as young men, but the women in our lives quickly assured us we had learned nothing. Actually, at 32 my Tlingit Indian mentor told me when I was 32 I was much too young to even begin to know what it meant to be a man. That was not an insult but just a statement of what he knew to be true.
It would be nice to report that at this late stage of life I have learned that time is an illusion; that we only have this moment. This morning my spiritual intention was to let go of my attachment to checking off items on my list of chores. Of course, I want to be a responsible person, but I know that on this third Sunday of Advent nothing matters except that I show up to be present to the people in my life and even to the lone winter bird which shows up to visit.
Written December 15, 2019
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
Perhaps it is impossible to understand the briefness of this life journey until one has passed the markers which tell one that it is only a moment between birthdays or a mere second from the passion of the conception of one’s child or children to their adult years. Perhaps it is only a Nano-second that one has to attend to and savor an evening or even a week with friends. Perhaps one cannot fully appreciate that all those chores can wait if only one can absorb one more moment with a loved one or the visit of a winter bird.
It does seem to me that in some cultures and in some places – perhaps the two are always intricately woven together in a fine, silk tapestry – time wraps itself around the moment and stretches it to infinity. This seemed to be true in Alaska when the Tlingit community allowed me to share the breath of all that was and all that was to be.
Last evening, I spent time with close friends in Pittsburgh or more precisely at the home of friends in Penn Hills, Pennsylvania. Some of us in that group of eight have been gathering for, we think, 37 years. Others joined us later. Several can only join us by whispering words of comfort wrapped in a blanket of remembered laughter. At that first gathering I would have been what I then thought was a moderately grown up man. Already I was thinking that my life was just starting in some ways. I was full of hope. I was also undoubtedly full of myself while thinking I had learned something of what it meant to be a man or at least was in the process.
The essence of this group 37 years ago was a group of men who were committed to unlearning what it meant to be a man and learning what it might mean to be a person who happened to be male and who might learn to behave in a way which allowed for the possibility of equal relationships with the women in all aspects of our lives. We may have thought we had learned the core of that dance as young men, but the women in our lives quickly assured us we had learned nothing. Actually, at 32 my Tlingit Indian mentor told me when I was 32 I was much too young to even begin to know what it meant to be a man. That was not an insult but just a statement of what he knew to be true.
It would be nice to report that at this late stage of life I have learned that time is an illusion; that we only have this moment. This morning my spiritual intention was to let go of my attachment to checking off items on my list of chores. Of course, I want to be a responsible person, but I know that on this third Sunday of Advent nothing matters except that I show up to be present to the people in my life and even to the lone winter bird which shows up to visit.
Written December 15, 2019
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
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